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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
        Fie upon thee, November! thou dost ape
The airs of thy young sisters;—thou hast stolen
The witching smile of May to grace thy lip,
And April’s rare capricious loveliness
Thou’rt trying to put on!
Julia C. R. Dorr.    
        The wild November comes at last
Beneath a veil of rain;
The night wind blows its folds aside,
Her face is full of pain.
The latest of her race, she takes
The Autumn’s vacant throne:
She has but one short moon to live,
And she must live alone.
R. H. Stoddard.    
        In rattling showers dark November’s rain,
From every stormy cloud, descends amain.
        On my cornice linger the ripe black grapes ungathered;
Children fill the groves with the echoes of their glee,
Gathering tawny chestnuts, and shouting when beside them
Drops the heavy fruit of the tall black-walnut tree.
*        *        *        *        *
Dreary is the time when the flowers of earth are withered.
William Cullen Bryant.    
        The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread;
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
William Cullen Bryant.    

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